Only Children
by Molly4
Summary: After the most horrible mission of their lives all of the Animorphs retreat to their respective homes. Takes placeearly on in the series. R&R please.


After a long and difficult mission, all of the Animorphs return to their respect homes...at 2:30 in the morning. Takes place early on in the series. And some things like ages might be a little mixed up. Sorry bout that.  
  
Disclaimers: Don't own any of the Animorphs.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
  
Only Children  
By: Molly  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jake:  
  
We stood in the middle of the empty street, examining each other's bruises under the light of a street lamp. Most of our bruises had disappeared once we morphed back, but the terrifying run through the woods in human form hadn't gone without injury. We knew it was late, and we'd probably be fried when we got home, but we were too tired to complain about it.  
  
Marco took the worst beating of all of us. The Yeerks has enlisted some attack dogs to help guard their territory. The three dogs now lay dead in the middle of Harper's Woods, but not before biting Marco multiple times. I had to admit I was surprised by his courage under fire. His right eye was swollen and he walked with a noticeable limp. Blood gushed out of what locked like a deep gash across his forehead. He'd tripped over a log and went sprawling face first into the ground. Now he sat on the curb, head in his hands. We were far from the woods, far from the Yeerks, but it didn't make things any less scary. Tears ran down his face but nobody said anything. Everybody was crying. We're only kids. We don't deserve this.  
  
Rachel stood, her back up against the streetlight, silently crying but a look of fierce hatred on her face. She looked ready to bash some skulls, but on the inside I knew she was ready to break down. We all were. For once her hair was a mess and her t-shirt torn and bloody. Her arms oozed blood from pricker bushes and branches brushing her skin. She didn't seem to notice though. She stared out into spaced looking mad, but I knew she was scared. We all were.  
  
Tobias was a hawk. We couldn't see any injuries, and he didn't complain of any. He was perched in a nearby tree, preening his feathers. I remembered him in the heat of battle, screaming in thought speak for his mother, when he thought he was on the brink of death. I shivered.  
  
Cassie looked just plain scared. She was sort of hugging herself and she stood a little hunched over. A long gash ran down the side of her face, dripping blood onto the street. Part of me wanted to go over and hold her but I resisted the urge. She needed some time to think.  
  
Ax stood apart from everyone else, hidden in the shadows, in case somebody saw him. There wasn't much risk being that it was around two in the morning, but we had to be careful. He didn't say a word. I think our tears scared him. He was taught to be an Andalite warrior, strong and brave. Tears were considered a sign of weakness to him.  
  
I had the fewest injuries. In fact, I had almost none. I'd been the leader of the pack. I'd lead them into the Yeerk Pool under the playground and I'd lead them running away through the woods. My knee was a little sore but that was about the extent of my injuries. I felt kind of guilty. The others had protected me more than I'd protected them.  
  
Marco looked up suddenly, his cheeks stained with tears his eyes dead and deflated.   
  
"I want my father," He sobbed quietly, his body rocking back and forth. "I want my Daddy." Marco was hysterical. "I want to be a little kid again. I don't want this anymore."   
  
Everybody was quiet. Rachel walked over, knelt down and hugged him tightly. We all knew why Marco was saying the crazy things he was saying. His mother had shot at him with a Dracon beam. His mother, his gentle sweet, loving mother, with a Yeerk in her head. She'd looked at Marco the gorilla with cold, unfeeling eyes and shot him. Even Rachel had sympathy.  
  
"I want my Daddy," Marco kept repeating hysterically. He was out of his mind. He'd had a high fever to being with. I almost stopped him from going on the mission.   
  
Cassie dashed into the bushes and threw up. I heard the agonizing choking noises and almost threw up myself. She sounded like she was in so much  
pain. I felt like screaming. We're only children. Barely teenagers. We don't deserve this kind of responsibility.   
  
"This sucks," Rachel hissed as she held Marco close.   
  
I cleared my throat. I agreed totally, but I had to be brave for my "troops." I was Prince Jake after all. Sorry. My lame attempt at humor.  
  
"We have to go home now," I whispered. Cassie staggered out of the bushes. "Our parents are probably waiting for us."  
  
Rachel nodded, but spoke only to Marco. "It'll be all right Marco," she whispered, in a tone I'd never heard out of her before. "I promise."  
  
Marco threw her off. "You can't promise a thing like that!" He snapped. "We're not gonna win this damn thing. How can we? I can't take another night like tonight. You can't tell me everything will work out! This isn't a movie." He waved his hands around. "You see Sly Stallone anywhere?"  
  
We were all very quiet. A memory hit me of just last week. We'd all gone to the mall and Marco's dad had given us a ride home in his company van. Marco had his Blink-182 CD playing. He put on "Adam's Song," and we all quietly sang along. We knew all the words, and we knew all the pain. I could've sworn I saw Marco cry a little in the front seat but I couldn't be sure. It was one of those moments where something seeming so small gives you such a profound insight on our friends. I remembered Marco saying quietly that he listened to it when he was depressed. His father tried to look calm but he was about ready to have a heart attack. And with quiet murmurs the rest of the group chimed in that they too listened to the song when they were depressed.   
  
Finally, Cassie spoke.  
  
"Jake's right. We have to go home."  
  
We all went our separate ways, not even bothering to say good-bye.   
  
We were too tired.  
  
  
Tobias:  
  
I flew through the morning sky, trying not to think of the battle. I had to think of something. Anything. Anything but what I did and saw.  
  
Music. Yeah. Music. NSYNC sucks. Yeah, that's it. Billy Joel is the man. "Piano Man," is the greatest song ever, and the one where he talks about what he does in the middle of the night....great one. The Goo Goo Dolls and Matchbox 20 are underrated. Controllers firing Dracon beams. Muffled screams coming from the pool, begging for somebody, anybody to help. Shit.  
  
I didn't want to go back to the scoop with Ax. A part of me knew I couldn't go back at the moment. I needed to be alone.   
  
I swooped through the sky. It's funny how everything seems so different so early in the morning. It's like the world is standing still for you. The streets are quiet and dimly lit. The houses are all dark, the shades drawn and the doors tightly locked. No kids with baggy pants are roaming the streets with a can of spray paint in their back pocket looking for trouble. Even the zombie like freaks who invade Arby's at midnight are safely tucked away in their asylum. It's too quiet. It leaves you alone with just your mind for company. That's not always a good thing.  
  
I sailed around a bit, swooping and diving, but even flying didn't have it's same magic. I could barely see in front of me anyway. I landed in a small tree near McDonald's.   
  
A part of me wanted to be like the rest of the gang, headed home to people who would be furious with me for being out so late, but relieved I was even living. I wanted to be hugged and strangled at the same time. I wanted to feel a parent's arms around me. I wanted something more than a tree on a cold night. I had nobody to care about me. I felt like morphing human and crying my eyes out.   
  
I thought of the mouse I'd hunted and killed that morning. I wondered if his parents were waiting for him in their little hole, scared he was dead. I tossed those thoughts away. I'm an animal. I have no conscience.  
  
I'm only a child. I don't deserve this.  
  
  
Jake:  
  
I walked home silently. I wanted so bad to hit something, or knock over a garbage can or two. I felt all the frustration building up inside of me. I wanted to break somebody's windows or stomp that guy's lawn gnomes to bits and pieces. But I didn't. I walked slowly, my hands jammed into the pockets of a coat I'd stashed in a nearby alley. My legs were freezing in my tight gym shorts.  
  
Home was a short walk. All the lights were off and the curtains were drawn. I should've felt relief. My parent's weren't waiting up for me. They probably thought I was in bed. It didn't surprise me. My parents are wrapped up in their own little world. They fight constantly, over money and how to raise Tom and me. They scream at each other all the time, when they think we don't know it. There are nice times though, when everything's calm and happy and we sit in front of the TV sipping lemonade and watching a "Leave it to Beaver" marathon. But those times are few and far in between. If they didn't notice that I didn't come home all night then they must have had another blowout.  
  
I grabbed the key from under the Welcome mat and entered quietly. I'd become an expert on sneaking in and out. I'd snuck out at 10:30. The clock chimed 2:30. I sighed.  
  
I climbed the stairs quietly and peeked into Tom's room. He wasn't there. Thank God. I stepped over a broken vase. Yep, another blowout. My parent's door was shut tightly. I peeked out the side window and my suspicions were confirmed. My mom's car wasn't in the driveway. Gee, marriage counseling was doing them wonders.  
  
I entered my room and sank down on the bed. I hit my pillow with all my might, but no relief came of it. I threw it at the wall, stomped it, kicked it, but I was still crazy inside. I sank down onto my bed, suddenly weary, suddenly remembering I'd be expected to go to school tomorrow. I grabbed my headphones, turned on some Eminem and blasted it into my ears. I needed some kind of way to tune out my thoughts.  
  
I shut my eyes but they wouldn't stay closed. I remembered some kind of history homework I hadn't done, but I didn't care about school anymore. I'll probably die before I graduate anyway, so what was a little missed homework anyway.   
  
Why do things have to be like this? Why did we have to go through the construction site? Why us? Sometimes I wonder if I'd rather be a dead Animorph or a powerless Controller. I can't choose. I don't know.  
  
Tears rolled down my cheeks and smacked my pillow. Eminem screamed swears into my ears and I could barely hear them. When did life get so complicated? When I was eight years old all I worried about was the multiplication tables and what my afternoon snack would be. Now I have to worry about saving the world without cracking up. It just isn't fair! How many other kids have to go through this? Why us?   
  
We're only children. We don't deserve this.  
  
I don't think I'll ever be able to fall asleep.  
  
  
Cassie:  
  
It's a wonder I ever made it home. My legs felt like jelly and heart wouldn't stop turning over. I can still see Jake's face when we left. He felt like we all did, sad and hopeless.   
  
I've always hated war, disapproved of it's fighters, not understanding it's reasons. I hate this war. I have to say I approve the Animorphs, because I understand our reasons. At least I think I do. *Sigh.* Sometimes I don't know what we're fighting for. As soon as we rescue a few Controllers they either go into hiding or get killed by a Yeerk because they know the truth. We're all kids, who have to go to school and be home by curfew. We have no place in a war like this.   
  
Things shouldn't be like this. Rachel should be shopping at the mall and talking to a clueless me about fashion and guys, not ripping heads off in a bear morph. Marco should be on the phone with the latest girl who's fallen head over heels for him, not sobbing for his Daddy in the middle of the street at two in the morning. Tobias should be a human for God's sake! Jake shouldn't have to be so serious. He should take me out to the movies, have a little fun. God, I feel so petty. Here I am complaining about this war because I'm desperate for a date! I'm pathetic.   
  
I don't know what to say about Ax. Maybe his life is how it should be. He's an Andalite, he's supposed to be doing this kind of thing. Yeerk busting. He wants to fight this war. If we hadn't walked through the construction site and met his brother he still might be fighting the war.....  
  
Damn. It's hard to be a warrior with a conscience, and we all have one. Even Rachel. She slept over my house last weekend. In the dark of the night she asked me if I thought she was ruthless. I told her no, I thought she was brave and strong. She'd said it was the same thing. Rachel told me that during one of our Yeerk pool invasions she'd killed somebody without even thinking about it. Who could do such a thing? Was what she'd asked. So, yes, Rachel has a conscience, when she lets you. Jake has one too, but he doesn't talk about it either. He keeps all of his feelings inside because he knows he needs to be strong for other people. He's the leader, though he's still just a little kid. Marco's conscience shows itself in his brains, his talent for tactics. Despite all his babblings about Point A to Point B, I know how much he feels for each and every person he's forced to kill. He knows what it's like to lose somebody. Tobias is open about his. He expressed grief when he first killed a mouse and ate it. Ax, well, I only hope Ax has one.   
  
I snuck into the barn and grabbed a sweater and some jeans. I cleaned the cut on my face and headed shakily to the door. All the lights were on. I'm surprised I was even thinking enough to put on some decent clothes. My mind was a complete blur. I was trying to numb myself from thinking about all the events of the night, but they all kept coming back to me.  
  
I opened the door, and there my parents stood, wearing bathrobes and killer looks. There was no relief at the fact that I was still among the living. They knew the routine. They'd stopped going crazy with worry long ago when I started coming home late. Now all they had was rage and the belief that I was some out of control party child. But I could care less. Whatever they do to me cannot compare to what this war has done to me, cannot come close to comparing to what I've done to myself. I took a deep breath, ready to accept my punishment and drift off to bed. Maybe I'd get lucky and never wake up.  
  
They yelled for awhile. I didn't hear much of it. I was going in cruise control. My body was there but the rest of me was somewhere far away. Somewhere where problems seem like nothing. Somewhere over the rainbow. Yeah. Over the rainbow. So maybe the war's rainbow and we just have to get over it to where trouble melts like lemon drops high above the chimney tops. Maybe that's it.  
  
"You're grounded for a month," my father yelled.  
  
That was the only thing I heard. Didn't matter to me much anyway. The was grounding me for life. Besides I could sneak out if I needed to. They couldn't stop me. I'm an Animorph. Nothing stops me. Not even my morals.  
  
I floated up to bed twenty minutes later. My parents hadn't asked for an explanation or a story. They'd been through this too many times to think I'd actually tell them. They knew any story I told would be a lie. They don't trust me anymore. But I have bigger problems.  
  
We're only children. We don't deserve this.  
  
I don't think my parents will ever trust me again.  
  
  
Ax:  
  
I ran to my scoop, not stopping to think. I was experiencing an onslaught of what humans call emotions or feelings. It's incredible what a being can think about when he's all alone with his mind.  
  
I turned on my TV. I needed what Marco would call a healthy distraction from all things serious. Nothing much was on. I was disappointed. I'd hoped maybe "Perfect Strangers," would be on, the show about a wonderful man named Balky who had a lot of sheep. The show always makes me happy. It wasn't on. Only some odd program about girls going wild, but that didn't look appealing.   
  
I tried to sleep, but it was hard. I knew why. I'd learned things like human morals from Cassie. I'm afraid my human friends have rubbed off on me. It used to be that Andalites did not feel for the Yeerks they killed, did not feel for the host bodies they watched suffer and die. But I do feel for them, especially after a mission like tonight. I felt for them when I saw the tears of my friends. Humans never mattered to me. I got too involved with these humans my brother gave the morphing power to. I was too kind. Now I feel what they feel. At my academy we learned not to get to close to any other species. It could only bring trouble.  
  
I flicked on a small radio I always kept around. Nothing except some band named In the Sink was playing and they sounded awful. I turned it off, and instead listened to the noises of the forest.  
  
I wondered if Tobias would come. I didn't think he would. If he did then we might have to talk about tonight. If there's one thing I've learned about humans it's that they don't like to talk about anything that gives them emotional pain. I suppose I am the same way. I don't talk about how I felt about Elfangor with them just like Marco doesn't talk about how he feels about losing his mother to the Yeerks. I suppose Andalites may be like humans in more ways than I'd originally suspected.  
  
I don't know that my human friends belong in this war though. I am an Andalite. I am trained to fight wars. They are children, not even of age to start fighting human wars. The psychological ramifications of doing battle at such a long age are staggering. I learned that at the academy. They don't belong in this war, but I do. I have to belong. Elfangor was my brother. Tobias may be his son but he is not an Andalite. He was not trained for this. None of them have.   
  
They are only children. They don't deserve this.  
  
Do I?  
  
  
Rachel:  
  
I came home to a dark house. I almost smiled, remembering Mom was on a business trip. Only Jordan and Sara were home. No cross examinations, no screaming, no yelling, no fuss. Good. Because I'm about to break down and I couldn't feed my mom B.S. about losing track of time without bursting into tears.  
  
I was surprised to find Jordan waiting up for. She sat on the stairs, bouncing a ball off the wall. She stopped when she saw me enter. She smiled. I groaned. I didn't need this.   
  
"Where have you been?" Jordan demanded, but she kind of smiled. She hadn't been worried.  
  
"None of your business," I growled. I didn't need to explain myself to her.   
  
"Why are your arms bloody?" She asked, pointing at them.  
  
I looked down. Hm. Hadn't even noticed. Didn't matter. I didn't have to tell her anything.  
  
"None of your damn business," I mumbled. "Now get out of my way!"  
  
"Why are you wearing your leotard?"   
  
"None of your business!" I wanted to scream but Sara was sleeping.  
  
"Were you having sex with Marco?"  
  
"Jordan!" I exclaimed. She smiled innocently. She's not such a little kid I guess.  
  
"I'm gonna tell Mom when she gets back," Jordan said with a smile.  
  
"What do you want?" I asked, sick of the whole stupid conversation.  
  
"I want you to invite Marco over tomorrow to hang out. And you have to let me hang out with him....and the locket you got for Christmas."   
  
"I'm not giving you one damn thing!" I yelled, suddenly more pissed than ever. "You tell Mom anything and I'll kill you." I paused. "And I'll tell Marco you still wet your bed sometimes." I knew that would get her. She's really embarrassed because she thinks she's the only kid her age who wears those diaper things to bed.  
  
  
Jordan's face turned fifty shades of red at the very thought. She stomped up the stairs. I didn't feel a trace of guilt. I had so much more to worry about than my stupid little sister.  
  
I trudged upstairs, feeling dead. I wanted so bad sometimes to go back in time and take the long way home from the mall. I guess we can't change the past though. The others think I'm some kind of cold, heartless killer. It's not like that. Not at all.  
  
At the Yeerk pool awhile ago, I killed a Controller. It was a total accident. It was also a guy I used to have a crush on. It's so much harder when you know the person. Like Marco feels about his mom. He knows he should want her dead but he can't because he still loves her. I've felt guilty about killing the guy since it happened. I tried to talk to Cassie about it, but everything she said didn't really strike me as true. She must think of me as ruthless. Everyone does. Even I do sometimes. My mom calls it spunk. Guys at school call it bitchiness.  
  
Am I a bitch? Yeah, probably. Maybe. I don't know. I wish I did. I don't want to be a bitch. Sometimes I want to be a bubbly airhead. It's better to be called an airhead than a bitch.  
  
The war has hardened me. I feel for those I kill, but I kill anyway. I know my purpose, my cause, and I work for it. I could just fly away and never come back, but I fight. Not to save my mother or my brother, or avenge somebody's death, or to make world peace. I don't know why I fight. Maybe I like it. I don't really know.  
  
We're only children. We don't deserve this.  
  
So why do I fight?  
  
  
Marco:  
  
As soon as I opened the door, Dad bear hugged me. I didn't mind. I wanted it. I needed it.  
  
"God, Marco," he whispered. I could hear the hitch in his voice. He'd been crying.  
  
"Dad," I whispered, my arms wrapped around him, my crying face buried into his chest. I had my Daddy.  
  
Dad didn't let go for a long time. We stood there, the door wide open, hugging and crying. I wished it would last forever. But of course, it couldn't. Especially not when Dad saw my injuries.  
  
"Marco, what happened?" Dad asked, his eyes as wide as saucers. His hand gently brushed my face as he tenderly touched my swollen eye. He turned pale when he noticed the blood on my face and the limp in my walk.  
  
"I was jumped," I whispered softly. "Some racists," I added.   
  
"Oh, God," Dad whispered. "I love you so much, Marco. I was so scared."  
  
"I love you too....I'm sorry." I felt like a rotten kid. He'd been so worried about me and I had to lie to him.  
  
"It's not your fault," Dad replied, wiping a tear from my eye gently. He kissed me on the cheek and hugged me again. "God, I'm just glad you're okay." He paused. "You are okay right? You don't need to go to the hospital do you?"  
  
I shook my head. "I'll be fine."  
  
Dad dragged me into the kitchen, cleaned the blood off my face and dished me up some ice cream. His hands literally shook. The shock hadn't worn off yet. When he asked I told him I had no clue who'd done it, that it was too dark. He took it as the truth. I wished I could talk to him about Mom. About my own mother shooting me. I didn't. I kept quiet.  
  
Dad sat two inches from me, running his hands through my hair as I choked down my ice cream. It was comforting. I needed this. I felt dead inside and probably looked dead outside but it was nice to have somebody caring about me. That doesn't happen much in war.  
  
"You don't have to go to school tomorrow," Dad told me, speaking in the same voice he'd use to speak to an infant. He kissed the side of my head. "I don't know what I'd do without my Little Marco Man."  
  
I smiled a little bit. It was such a corny name, but it meant something to him, and I guess it meant something to me too.   
  
"Look Marco, I know you're almost a teenager and everything.....but well....would you mind sleeping in my bed tonight? It would make me feel a lot safer.  
  
I didn't want to let on but I thought it was the greatest idea ever. I needed him to be there. He's my father after all.   
  
I lay down on one side of my dad's bed. He was on the other, but his arms were wrapped around my waist tightly. Dad kissed me three more times before he calmed down enough to shut his eyes.  
  
"I love you Little Marco Man," Dad whispered.  
  
"I love you too," I replied.  
  
I felt guilty. Dad had been on the brink of hysteria. What would happen if I left for a mission and never came back? It would kill him. I'm the last bit of Mom he has. He wasn't even angry with me for being late, even before he heard my story. He dried my tears and hugged me tightly. He doesn't deserve to have to go through his life scared out of his mind that I'm dead or hurt.  
  
We're only children. We don't deserve this. This war. This life. This hell.  
  
Please, God, if you exist, help me. For my father, please, don't let me die.  
  
  
*Finis*  
  
R&R please 


End file.
